Tag Archives: gangsters

It’s a fun day for Bizarro Jazz Pickles. Not only are there TEN Secret Symbols to find in today’s comic (click it to embiggenate it and begin your search!) but I’ve created a fun, new T-shirt design that I think those of you with a touch of social courage and a certain opinion of overly-used, overly-cute images will enjoy tremendously.

If it sells okay as a T-shirt, we’re going to make a lapel pin out of it. (Here are the enamel pins I’m currently offeringas of the date of this post. Go to the shop’s homepage to find them for sale individually.) Lots of folks have been asking for specific images of mine on enamel pins (most frequently the pie, the eyeball, and the green alien but one guy wanted a pin of his own gallbladder) and here’s the deal about that: With shirts and totes and mugs, I can use a print-on-demand service that doesn’t cost me anything in inventory because nothing gets made before it is ordered, and the company handles the shipping. With pins, I have to shell out the bucks to manufacture them and then mail each order myself or hire someone to mail them out. (My daughters, the K2, are handling that part for now.) So it’s a big risk and one that I can’t afford to take without some assurance they will sell. The bottom line is if the first four sell okay, we’ll add the pie, the eyeball, and the green alien in the next group. (We will likely never add that one guy’s gallbladder.) Stay tuned and share the link with your friends who might be interested in pins!

Now let’s see what Wayno was up to in the Kartoon Kingdom last week…

I like restaurants that treat adults like babies. I like them so much, in fact, that I won’t go to a restaurant that does not offer a plastic bib emblazoned with a picture of the exact thing I intend to order. If they don’t have them, I bring my own. I start out with a bib with a glass of water on it and move on from there.

Historical Alternative Fact: Vikings didn’t always just attack a village––burning, raping, and pillaging. Sometimes they’d read a Viking saga aloud through a bullhorn until the whole town fell asleep, and then quietly burn, rape, pillage and sneak off without waking anyone. ( I can relate because I once fell asleep in the first two minutes of America’s Got Talent and woke up feeling pillaged.)

This is very likely why Shakespeare’s Richard XXV closed after only one night. That, and the fact that characters playing close friends and family called him “King Dick” and the audience kept giggling.

Predictably, I got a complaint about this one from an organization of men who wear pinstriped suits and resent being associated with mobsters. I also got an avalanche of angry mail from Republican politicians who don’t like the word “bullets” being used for non-violent purposes.

On a related side note, I have so much to say about gun violence in the U.S. that I don’t feel I can even begin without this blog becoming a forty-page screed. Instead, I’ll just include this headline from the satirical newspaper The Onion, which I think says an enormous amount: “‘No Way To Prevent This’ Says Only Country Where This Regularly Happens.”

I successfully got rid of my head lice, it was the tiny furniture that was a pain to get untangled from my hair.

By the way, did you know that we have lice to thank for the words “lousy” and “nitpicking”? (This has been the educational portion of my post. We return now to juvenile chuckles and civil-war-inciting political commentary.)

Can’t help but wonder if he checked his gag reflex by shoving that rubber hammer thing down his throat. I check my gag reflex by turning on Fox and Friends or simply allowing it to cross my mind that Americans have turned their country over to an unprecedented gang of greedy, corrupt, lying cowards.

Thanks for coming along this far, Jazz Pickles! We adore your company. Don’t miss Wayno’s (much more brief) blog this week. He adds some fun comments about the week’s cartoons as well as a bonus section at the end about music and design and some books he’s reading lately. We at Bizarro Enterprises (Rancho Bizarro in Mexico and Bizarro Studios North in Pittsburgh) always go the extra mile to seem to appear to be well educated in the liberal arts.) And please don’t miss my new shop as well as the other links below. It takes a village to keep a couple of cartoonists in business!

Once again, I was unable to find the time to complete my weekly blog last week so this post has TWO WEEKS of cartoons, which my abacus tells me is FOURTEEN!

(For a righteous embiggenation, click the chick in the below pic.)

I’ve been told by scientists that the above cartoon is completely possible as long as the bungee cord is made of something much stronger and more flexible than anything we’ve yet discovered and the alien is friction proof. I chose the setting intentionally because, like Bigfoot, extraterrestrials tend to appear before inebriated country folk more than anyone else.

There’s some new stuff in my store like coffee mugs. Go have a look and get yourself (or that special someone you love or hate) something nice.

Some zoology zealot pointed out to me that cow’s udders only have four nipples, not six. I don’t know if that is correct or not because I have spent very little time underneath cattle.

I’m surprised that a Viking zealot did not point out that real Vikings didn’t wear horned helmets. Apparently, that motif was popularized by opera costuming. It is my understanding that opera singers also do not typically have six nipples.

“Germaphobia is a very real and debilitating condition that should not be made fun of. If you or someone in your family was germaphobic perhaps you would not think this was so funny. In the future please refrain from making fun of people in your “comics” just because they are different than you.” ––a offended “reader”

I am now writing my own hate mail and I can definitely see the attraction. Righteous indignation provides a certain satisfaction that is difficult to find elsewhere.

If you are not familiar with Shriners, they are guys who belong to a secret club sort of organization that has elaborate rituals that are held at places called “temples”. They often wear fezes (no, that is not a misspelling of “feces,” it’s the plural of “fez”) and are known for supporting children’s hospitals, which is a good thing. They also frequently ride in parades and such on tiny cars and motorcycles, presumably to entertain the children they support, but I can’t be completely sure about their motivation.

One could also read this comic as a satire of any retirement community where people who are too old to drive are still doing so. Like most of Florida.

If you know anybody who likes cool art and/or coloring, my most recent book is PERFECT for them. Cheap, too! ($6! And I wish I was kidding.)

All of my sons-in-law were visiting us recently and half of them (Chris) said he’d thought of a cartoon I might like and I really loved it and here it is. If you’re from a place in the world where you’ve never been exposed to American country music, first, give thanks to whatever god you imagine is responsible for this minor good fortune, then become aware that American country music is often about sadness and two very popular reasons for this lamentation are sexual infidelity and the death of a cherished dog.

On a side note, I once heard of a country music song title that amused me: “My Wife Ran Off With My Best Friend and I Miss Him”. Perhaps the best friend was his dog. I don’t really know.

In this era of outing people for harassment of and violence against women, I thought it might be good to point out the plight of cartoon characters, many of whom experience far more creative and consistent violence than those of us in the real world.

Yes, I agree with you. Violence against women (or anyone) is a serious issue and should not be the subject of humor. I don’t know what I was thinking.

HEY, LOOK! IT’S ANOTHER TITLE PANEL (below) SO THAT MEANS WE’RE ABOUT TO EMBARK ON YET ANOTHER WEEK’S WORTH OF CARTOONS! CAN YOU BELIEVE HOW MUCH FUN WE’RE HAVING? I CAN NOT.

In this Sunday title panel, I have made my Bizarro Bunny look like Mickey Mouse. I even signed my name like Walt Disney used to. Perhaps I will soon be impossibly wealthy.

As of yet, I am not wealthy, I’m just an artist getting by. A tiny part of how I get by is by selling stuff. Here’s a place that offers some super nice, archival, limited-edition, signed-and-numbered prints of some of my favorite Bizarro cartoons. They also sell some of my original art from Bizarro. Have a look.

It recently occurred to me that training an entire nation to find vermin adorable contributed to Trump’s election. I blame Walt.

It still boggles my mind that Bill O’Reilly got any traction out of Starbucks not putting blatantly religious imagery on their coffee cups a few years back. B.O. also found all kinds of other ways in which he perceived some kind of nationwide conspiracy to undermine Christianity and convinced plenty of people to get all lathered up about it. I usually find idiocy of this sort to be hilarious but when it occurs on the magnitude that it currently does in the U.S., it’s more frightening than funny. (See “The Handmaid’s Tale” or the way any country that combines government with religion.)

Want to help support the kind of content I supply or just toss me a holiday gift? You can do that by making a one-time donation or a monthly contribution to Rancho Bizarro here. I will immediately become your imaginary best friend!

I adore dogs and think they are close to the most perfect creatures DNA ever coughed up, except for their utter lack of discrimination when choosing what to put into their mouths. My god, they make me want to vomit.

Moments later:

Dummy: Who just stuck their hand up my ass?!

Rocco: You wouldn’t have been able to ask that question if I hadn’t.

If living with a man who wears that yellow getup 24/7 isn’t enough to frighten Curious George, the fact that a known pedophile is about to be elected to the U.S. Senate with the blessings of the president and the Republican Party certainly is. This is what the “party of family values” is up to, folks. Still think it doesn’t matter which party you vote for?

In a country with an admitted molester of women, a Nazi sympathizer, an unmitigated liar and so, so, so much more in the White House, anything is possible. It is my contention that Trump’s not being hit by lightning is evidence either that there is no god, or that the ones that exist are sadistic assholes.

I got several complaints about this cartoon. This one is my favorite:

“I am extremely disappointed and offended by your cartoon printed on 12/08/2017. Considering children read your cartoons which are for the most part entertaining, but this particular one is sadly referencing a subject matter that hits to close to home with our children and adults at any time. Not everyone needs to be reminded of depraved situations on a constraint basis especially when the funnies are read by so many for the pure enjoinment of laughing and being entertaining to them, at least that’s what I’ve always given them credit for, not to make a horrifying statement that children could and would find frightening. This could actually ruin this and many Christmases for many children. Santa Claus molesting elves and rain deer is not funny and this cartoon crossed over even Bizzaro lines!”

My paraphrased reply was something close to this: I worded this the way I did so that younger, less sophisticated children would not know what it means. If a child is educated or sophisticated enough to understand it, they’re also likely old enough to understand it is a cartoon and has no power in the real world. If I thought any child would be upset by it (without an adult’s coaching) I would not have published it.

I refrained from mentioning that I was “extremely disappointed and offended” by her grammar and punctuation skills.

Not long ago, a reader asked me to do a cartoon with a ninja. At first, I ignored him but then I found him clinging to the ceiling of my bedroom wearing black pajamas with only his eyes showing, so I decided to relent. We still haven’t gotten all the pajama glue off of the ceiling. At least, we hope that was pajama glue.

That’s all for now, Jazz Pickles. Have a great week––until next time, be smart, be happy, be nice, and resist fascism and ignorance.

People often compare dogs and cats: which is smarter, which is the better pet, etc. In my opinion, dogs and cats are such dramatically different species that they really can’t be compared. Dogs are pack animals and want to please their leader, cats are solitary hunters and don’t recognize others as part of their group. Huge difference. Like trying to compare gorillas and squirrels––they both have fur, but beyond that, not much to compare.

One way in which I do think a comparison between dogs and cats is informative, however, is in their usefulness as roommates. I’m not referring to the fact that one will deter burglars and one will not. That’s too obvious. I’m referring to housekeeping. When you live with a dog, you can toss any food item onto the floor and the dog will immediately remove it with the efficiency of a steam cleaner. This alleviates the bothersome task of having to walk to the garbage disposer, turn on the water, and flip a switch. Big time saver. Similarly, plates do not need to be washed as you can put those on the floor when you’re finished eating, too. In a matter of seconds, the plate will shine brighter than any dishwashing soap can manage. If you have a trained monkey that can put the plate back into the cabinet when the dog is done, you’re off the hook completely.

Cats, on the other hand, will sometimes eat what you throw on the floor, but then just walk into another room and vomit it back up. Probably onto something that requires dry cleaning. It’s more of a moving service than a cleaning service. In this way, I prefer dogs.

My beloved Olive Oyl and I have one cat and one dog, so we get all the benefits of both. And when the cat pukes, the dog cleans it right up. Disgusting, yes, but not as disgusting as having to clean it up ourselves.

I’ve yet to solve the mystery of how either animal can remain among the living, however, as our dog shits more than she eats and our cat throws up more than she swallows. If anyone knows that answer to that, let me know.

Did you American readers know that in European countries, people are not afraid of women’s breasts and allow them on TV shows and commercials? Did you European readers know that Americans consider women’s breasts to be obscene objects of terrifying sexual power? It’s all true! Accordingly, as an American, I’ve always thought it amusing the way producers will find clever ways to hide taboo body parts, like the seashell bra that mermaids wear unless their hair is strategically glued to their boobs. Here is an older cartoon I’m quite proud of that refers to the way the Bible books I had access to as a child used to treat Adam and Eve.

They say that very soon, things you order online will be delivered to your door by drones. Which means that very soon, things you order online will end up in somebody else’s yard after they’ve shot down the delivery drone with a BB gun.

If you’re confused by this gag about the shoes it may be because you’ve not seen enough old gangster movies. There used to be a cliche that gangsters would tie a guy up, sink his feet in a bucket of cement, let it harden, then throw him into the East River. They called it “cement shoes”. The gangsters in this cartoon aren’t grasping the concept as clearly as they might. This is where the humor part is.

Another place where there’s humor is that in the horizontal strip version of this cartoon, I added a bag of cement on the right called “Mobster’s Choice Cement,” as seen below.

An email friend of mine, a retired gentleman who enjoys doing comics of his own, sent me a comic he did of “Vague” magazine. I liked it so much I asked if I could do my own version of it and he happily agreed. So here’s my take on it, very similar to his but with a few different subheadings. Hope you enjoy it as much as I do.

Tons of people really loved this Trump cartoon and many pointed out that there actually has been at least one Trump board game on the market. Of course there has. Why didn’t I just assume that? If it can have the name Trump printed on it or carved into it, The Donald has marketed it.

My conspiracy nut cartoon above was published on April 9th. Elsewhere in the newspaper cartoon world, my friend and colleague, Dave Coverly, published the cartoon below in his feature, Speed Bump on exactly the same day.

Neither Dave nor I was aware of the cartoon the other was going to publish on April 9th. Was this an uncanny coincidence, or were there government agents secretly influencing our thought patterns by spraying us with experimental chemicals via those long, white trails that jets leave in the sky? Savvy readers know the answer. (I am winking now.)

Want to get a unique gift for yourself or somebody you love or despise? How about a super high-quality print from a real live art gallery that was hand-signed by the same hand I use to draw cartoons? No, it’s not a dream, you are awake and this is a real thing. A Los Angeles art gallery is selling a small handful of my favorite cartoons as limited-edition, signed and numbered prints. Each and every one has been on my own kitchen table. Grab one now, before the “limited edition” part kicks in and they’re all gone!

Everyone has seen plenty of parents who have no business raising kids, but nobody thinks they are one of them. It’s been said many times that you have to pass a test to drive a car, but anyone can have a kid, ruin them, and set them loose on society to wreak havoc. (No, it isn’t “wreck” havoc, in case you are wondering.) Beyond this obvious issue, it is also safe to say that humans are the only species actively destroying the planet, and everyone and everything would benefit greatly if we stopped reproducing. Yeah. Like that’s going to happen.

I was raised in Oklahoma where not everyone is a stupid redneck, but there are certainly more than you could shake a stick at. I still think they’re funny.

In the movies, mobsters are frequently trying to make a “hit” look like an accident. This target makes it easy.

DEJA VIEW: Since I just mentioned I was raised in tornado country, I thought this gag from 1995 might amuse you. I had close relatives whose trailer was picked up by a tornado back around 1970, tossed to the ground, and destroyed. They were all injured but miraculously not killed. That kind of thing is pretty common in those parts.